


Needy

by PhenixFleur



Series: The Deer and The Wolf [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper being an asshat, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, Hunter AU, Hunter Bill, Interspecies Romance, M/M, Restraints, Rimming, Sweet, The thirst is real, adult!Deerper, rutting season, wolf!Bill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4385945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhenixFleur/pseuds/PhenixFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rutting season comes around again for poor Dipper, bringing along several weeks of anger and sexual frustration. Lucky for him he's got someone to help him scratch the itch this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needy

**Author's Note:**

> Written as half of an art trade with [cinnabarbarian](http://cinnabarbarian.tumblr.com) in exchange for [some really kickass artwork](http://cinnabarbarian.tumblr.com/post/122307740912/art-for-bipolar-berry-crunch-aka-lady-papillon-on).

These days he could tell when  _it_  was coming.

It started as a twinge of irritation, much like an eye tic. Except whereas the latter would eventually wear off this lingered, tacking itself to the back of his skull and needling him for days.

As a result, literally everything began to grate on his nerves. The incessant sound of his sister chattering about the wealth of aquatic social drama that lurked just below the waves of the lake she spent most of her time in now. The gawking stares of tourists visiting the tourist trap he still lived in alongside his grand uncle, their voices reminding him of the twittering of the birds that sometimes started their shit at 4 in the morning outside his window. His stupid antlers, which tended to peak and shed their velvet around the brief period of overly warm days and chilly nights that marked the end of summer and the beginning of fall; at their full length they got in the way constantly, knocking items off shelves and sweeping picture frames onto the floor while Stan complained about his inability to “control those things”.

This statement made Dipper angry, and his antlers made him angry, and so did the sun shining through the triangular window in his room and the existence of mosquitoes and  _goddamn it_  every morning from the moment he woke up to when he curled up in bed in a ball of hate and resentment he spent pretty much every passing minute wavering between wanting to fight someone and being so unquenchably horny that it was almost unbearable, and he could only achieve so much with his hands.

And that’s when Dipper Pines knew rutting season was in full swing.

_Fuck._

* * *

As usual for this time of the year, he heralded his arrival in the kitchen for breakfast with a stream of uncharacteristic profanity and an equally uncharacteristic slam of a back hoof into the wall just to hear the wood splinter ever so slightly. He’d regret it later when the fever withdrew, but for now property damage was the most he could get away with.

Mabel’s smiling face greeted him from the other side of the table; she leaned over the side of one of the tanks employed when she came to visit. Her rose-colored tail (now coated with shimmering scales that gleamed in the morning sunlight) had lengthened to a point where the kiddie pools weren’t much use, alongside the other physical changes that came with reaching maturity. As an eighteen year old mermaid she was no longer the gawky, slightly awkward girl she’d been at twelve when the transformation had gone down, and she received quite a few admirers at the lake, drawn by both her beauty and the alluring siren song interlacing her voice.

She took one look at her scowling brother and commented, with no sense of volume control (she was  _still_  Mabel, after all), “It’s that time again, isn’t it?”

Dipper’s only response was a grumbling noise that may or may not have contained actual words. His hooves clicked against the floor as he made his way over to the table and maneuvered himself into a sitting position. "This  _sucks_.”

Mabel passed him a slice of toast covered in strawberry jam. He accepted it with a heavy sigh and began to nibble on it with palpable disinterest. “It’s not so bad, bro-bro. At least it’s only once a year!”

“Try wanting to fight people for no good reason for an entire month every fall.”

“Try wanting to fight people  _and_ looking like a crime scene for a week every  _month_ ,” Mabel retorted, cheerfully.

Even in his state of agitation Dipper knew when it was time to shut up.

He half-listened to her talking about something he didn’t care about, still worrying the same slice of toast. He didn’t have much of an appetite. The sound of Stan approaching sent his ears up in instinctive alarm, and he moved aside to let his considerably larger grand uncle pass. Mabel beamed, leaning out further to hug him and almost losing her balance. “Hey Grunkle Stan! Soos picked me up earlier.”

Stan’s fangs made their appearance as his lips curled up into a rather gruesome smile; he steadied the mermaid before she tipped over the side of the tank. It was no secret that he missed her terribly now that she no longer lived at the Shack full-time. “Careful sweetie. You know we don’t have health insurance anymore.”

Mabel shook her head. “Will the discriminatory practices of the American healthcare system ever end?”

Dipper snorted, finally giving up on his toast and sitting it aside. He had to admit that she had a point, but from a logical standpoint refusing to offer an insurance plan to a family consisting of a cervitaur, a mermaid, and a gargoyle made a lot of sense. He was lucky he hadn’t gotten seriously ill at any point aside from colds or small injuries that could be treated at home. He may have been used to the tail and the ears and the extra legs but the very idea of visiting a vet was absolutely mortifying.

Stan glanced over his shoulder at him, then back at Mabel. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He really, really needs to get laid,” Mabel stated with no hesitation whatsoever. Dipper reared back, knocking the toaster off the table.

“Mabel!”

“What?” Mabel shrugged. “It’s a natural thing, Dippin’ Dot.”

Dipper bristled. “That doesn’t mean I want the world knowing about my nonexistent sex life!”

“See what I mean, Grunkle Stan?”

Stan remained frozen in place, head swiveling back and forth as he stared at one twin, then the other.

“Mabel, shut up!” Dipper snapped, slamming a forehoof on the tabletop.

“Stop yelling at your sister,” Stan mumbled, still in a state of shock. Apparently he wasn’t prepared for this conversation so early in the morning. And neither was Dipper, so he decided to bail.

He lowered his head and swept the jar of jam off of the table with his antlers, ignoring Mabel’s cry of protest as he turned tail and ran.

* * *

“Shit. Shit.  _Shit_.”

His heart pounded in his chest, hooves crunching through the bed of fallen leaves and twigs and pine needles underfoot as he sprinted further into the woods.

Dipper felt like an asshole.

Mabel’s bluntness was something he was used to, and she most certainly wasn’t wrong, but the last thing he needed was a reminder of his predicament. It was hard enough trying to avoid people while the aggression and arousal roiled within him, and this year it was just a little harder given a recent development in his life. But Dipper refused to let his wolf see him like this, out of control and unpleasant and  _needy_ , as much as he wanted to run into his comforting embrace and allow the honeyed words that fell liberally from the man’s lips to soothe him. Beautiful, graceful, unique…none of that applied right now.

Thus far he’d avoided the woods, afraid of running into the wolf; a couple of months and they still referred to each other with those pet names, the wolf and his Pine Tree; Dipper had yet to insist on his real name but for now he was content with the status quo. Today staying away from the woods wasn’t an option. He needed some kind of release, and kicking the absolute shit out of a tree was a safe option that wouldn’t get him arrested. He skirted around their usual meeting place, forcing himself to keep moving, and ran until his lungs burned and his legs felt like jelly.  _Strawberry jelly_.

“FUCK!” Ignoring the physical discomfort Dipper attacked the nearest tree, sending a few squirrels and a chipmunk fleeing from the mad creature tearing at the low-hanging branches with its antlers and knocking shards of bark free with its hooves, snorting and blowing and  _growling_. He lost his head for the moment, losing himself in the delicious sensation of destruction; for the moment he wasn’t human, setting that sense of dignity and self-restraint aside and allowing the animal to emerge.  _God_  it felt good. Not as good as other things would have felt, but sufficient enough to shut the beast up for a least a few minutes of blessed silence. After a good fifteen minutes he tired himself out, leaning against the trunk and working to catch his breath while tilting his head back to stare up at the clear, cloudless sky above.

A shadow fell over him, and a golden eye met his. “You sure put that tree in its place, kid.”

Dipper yelped, losing his balance and toppling over. His ears slicked back into his hair (instinctively) and his heart sped up, looking up at the wolf looming over him. The man was smiling, as usual; he always smiled, that sly grin that showed off two small fangs. Today Dipper could tell that it was just a little forced. “Long time no see, Pine Tree.” The wolf knelt down beside him, running a hand along his flushed cheek. His touch  _burned_ , going straight to the pit of his stomach and setting part of him on fire. “Have you been avoiding me?”

Dipper swallowed, averting his gaze. The aggression dealt out upon the tree at his back had now taken a backseat to a different kind of aggression, and he lightly bit his lip as he struggled to retain his composure. He’d been trying his damnedest to avoid this. “No…I’ve just been busy.”

“Oh?” The wolf let his fingertips trail along the incline of his jaw, slow and tantalizing. “Might I ask with what?”

“I…uh…” Dipper floundered for an excuse. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to him that his avoiding the wolf would affect more than just himself. Even worse was the man’s proximity - his senses were now in overdrive. His skin prickled and he tried to keep his legs poised to hide the now  _very interested_  'little’ Dipper making itself known.

“You wouldn’t be  _lying_  to me, would you?”

“N-no…I just…I didn’t…"  _Want you to see me like this._  "I just needed…some time…to myself.” The words were as difficult to spit out as it was to keep other words from bubbling forth.

“I see.” The wolf withdrew with a sigh. “I guess I should leave you to it, then.”

“No!” The word tore itself from his throat before Dipper could stop himself. “I…”

That toothy grin was back, and in that moment he realized that he was being played, and badly. That bastard  _knew_.

He gritted his teeth, tail flickering as he shifted to lunge at the man smirking at him - and the wolf, seemingly anticipating his actions, seized his wrists and forced them against the tree trunk behind him, holding him in place. “Did you need something?”

Dipper nodded, squirming in his grip.

“Then maybe you should tell me what it is.” The wolf purred. “You need to start being more assertive.”

The urge to just let go of his composure and return to the same mindless state he’d assumed while abusing the tree was quickly becoming overwhelming. “I…”

“I don’t have all day, kid. Spit it out.”

Lowering his head and training his eyes on the ground, the cervitaur muttered something, barely audible over the ambient sounds of the woods. “I can’t hear you.”

Enough was enough. The human part of himself shrugged and stepped out for awhile, and the creature that raised his head, meeting the wolf’s gaze with his own bore Dipper’s name but none of his apprehension. “I want you to  _fuck_  me,” he said, unwavering; it was only the hands gripping his wrists that prevented him from tackling the man and bowling him over.

The wolf licked his lips, and his visible eye took on a feral gleam that made the cervitaur shiver. “Was that really so hard? All you had to do all this time was ask.”

Perhaps his expression shifted to one of incredulity at the man’s words; the wolf continued, leering at him like a cat with a mouse speared on its claws. “Did you think I didn’t know, Pine Tree? Or that you could avoid me? I’m always watching.”

“That’s just creepy,” Dipper commented, and then a warm, wet mouth met his; teeth nipped at his lower lip, breaking the skin  _just so_  and he tasted the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. At any other time this would have thoroughly grossed him out, but in his current state it only served as an additional turn on. He bit back, gasping in protest as the wolf pulled back, continuing to hold him at arm’s length.

“Save some of that enthusiasm for later, kid. I’ll give you what you need. But we’re doing it on  _my_  terms.”

Dipper swallowed. “What are those?”

He couldn’t tell whether the leer he received in return was unnerving, yet _another_  turn on, or a bit of both.

The moment the shimmering blue length of chain encircled his neck of its own accord he decided it was definitely both.

“Um” was all he managed before the wolf seized the end of the chain and gave it a sharp tug, dragging the stunned cervitaur forward and kissing him again - less a kiss and more of a borderline violent assault on his lips, tongue parting them and shoving his aside in a show of dominance that only served to stoke the heat pooling just above his groin. The second he tried to return the gesture the wolf withdrew again.

“Nope! I’m calling the shots. You do what I tell you, got it?”

Dipper rolled his eyes. As much as he needed to relieve the itch the last thing he was prepared to do was crawl for it. Not right now, not when he couldn’t go five minutes without needing to hit something. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Is that a problem?” The wolf raised an eyebrow.

Dipper opened his mouth to protest…until Little Dipper reasserted itself, reminding him that even if he wasn’t yet reduced to a beggar he damn sure couldn’t afford to be a chooser.  _Shit_.

He averted his gaze again, staring at the ground as he muttered an affirmative.

“What was that?”

“…yes.”

“Good boy.” The wolf ruffled his hair fondly, briefly scratching behind his ears and drawing a soft moan of pleasure from the cervitaur. “Now.  _Hold still_.”

The hand stroking his ears slid along the incline of his jaw, pressing a fingertip against his lips before finding its way to the hem of his shirt and slowly lifting it to reveal his abdomen, then his chest. “Open your mouth.”

Unsure of what to expect, Dipper did as requested; he wasn’t expecting the wolf to shove the hem of his shirt into his mouth, following it up with an order to “Bite down”. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t chewed on his shirt before, but that usually came of sleep deprivation, not experimenting with what was probably softcore BDSM out in the woods.

Then he felt the fingertips of that wandering hand ring one of his nipples, tweaking it between finger and thumb and making him gasp, struggling to keep his teeth clenched - which became even more difficult when the wolf grinned at him and licked his lips, lowering his head out of the cervitaur’s line of sight and pressing his mouth to his other nipple, tongue flickering over the sensitive nub for a few torturous seconds before lightly biting down.

“ _Shit_.” The shirt hem fell from his lips as they parted in yet another sharp gasp; the wolf growled and he hastily reached for it, keeping it held aloft with his hands while the wolf continued his assault on his now fully attentive nipples, alternating between grazing the surface of his skin and swirling his tongue around them, switching from one to the other, leaving neither unattended for too long. The sensation made Dipper lightheaded; he was dying to do something other than just stand there; grab the wolf’s head and pull him closer, shove him away and reach for his own stiff cock brushing against his undercarriage,  _anything,_  but the thought of the wolf leaving him to his own devices was rapidly becoming unbearable. As if he’d read his mind the wolf gave the chain looped around his neck a good yank, pulling him flush against his body and abandoning his nipples for the moment - sharp teeth scraped against the surface of his skin before sinking into his shoulder; they didn’t break the skin but Dipper could tell there would be a mark there, standing out in sharp red relief against his pale skin, marking who’d been there.

His breath hitched in his throat, and he forgot himself for the moment, releasing his shirt and raising a hand to draw the wolf closer; another coil of blue chain links wound around his wrist, seeking the other like a snake and ensnaring it as well. Breath against his ear, the tip of a tongue licking a stripe along it before the wolf whispered in a husky voice betraying his feigned composure, “What did I say about holding still?”

“It’s…” Another moan, this one louder than he wanted. “It’s kinda hard.”

“Me too, kid.”

With his wrists bound and the chain keeping him held at bay the cervitaur had no choice but to remain still while the wolf took his own sweet time, licking here, caressing there, trailing surprisingly gentle kisses and light nips over every inch of exposed skin - effectively winding him up to a point where the idea of begging him to  _stop fucking around and stick his dick in him please_  became far less untenable than before. But no amount of pleading made the wolf’s actions progress any further than heavy petting, and before long his will to avoid showing how needy he truly was broke.

“Please. I can’t take much more of this. Just…”

The wolf paused, placing a thumb beneath his chin and gently tilting his head so that Dipper was left staring into his lone alluring golden eye. “Good things come to those that wait, Pine Tree.”

A single tear of frustration slid along his cheek, and Dipper shook his head, now perfectly unaware of his voice rising into an outright whine. “I can’t.”

The wolf wiped the tear from his cheek, tongue darting out to lick the droplet from his glove. “Do you remember what I told you when we first met?”

Even in his addled state he remembered those words. It was the first time he’d heard them applied to  _him_  instead of someone else, always someone  _but_  him. “Beautiful.”

“You are. Even more so when you’re falling apart in my hands.” With that the wolf released his hold on the chain; the rope of blue energy dragged him back to tree he’d attacked earlier, melding into the cuffs binding his wrists and wrapping around the trunk. Before he had a second to protest he cried out at the sensation of the wolf’s tongue circling the ring of muscle beneath the plume of his tail before dipping into his hole and  _damn_  that tongue was longer than Dipper remembered. A variety of words spilled from his lips, most of them vulgar and borderline blasphemous; they’d fucked before, of course they had, but nothing like  _this_ , tied down with every nerve in his trembling body aflame and tightly coiled. For once he really didn’t give a shit if anyone heard them.

The wolf paused in his ministrations,  _that bastard_ , and Dipper heard him speaking, barely audible over the sound of his own racing heartbeat. “Looking a little desperate, kid. Need me to slow down?”

It very thought was too much. The pressure in his body had built to a point where he could take it no longer. “Please, please please please I can’t…you have to…”

“I don't  _have_  to do anything.” Two slick gloved fingers slipped into him, nudging  _that spot_ that made him see stars.

Dipper’s tongue lolled out of his mouth like a that of a dog, panting, “I’m sorry…I just…I need…”

“What do you need? Say it.”

“You.” Tears coursed their way along his flushed cheeks. “Please…I can’t…”

“Say it again,” the wolf ordered, adding another finger; his tongue had done a good enough job with preparation,  precluding the slightly uncomfortable sensation that came with entry during their earliest trysts.

“I need you. I need you to-”

“What? You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please fuck me,” the cervitaur begged, quivering uncontrollably. Dignity was for other people. “I  _need_  you to fuck me. I’ll do anything.”

He could envision the expression of glee on the wolf’s face. “Anything? Anything I want?”

 _Fuck it._  He was probably making a deal with the devil, but that devil’s tongue and touch were an offer he really couldn’t refuse, consequences be damned. “Yes.”

He’d failed to notice the wolf loosening his trousers, but he definitely noticed as the man finally gave him what he’d been craving for what seemed like forever, gripping his hips and sliding into him in a perfect fit; and caution went right the fuck out the window for good as Dipper literally screamed in ecstasy, feeling himself clench around the wolf’s cock.

“Like this?” The wolf taunted, rolling his hips forward in slow, almost leisurely thrusts that gradually gained a nice rhythm that had the cervitaur actually drooling.  _This,_  this was what he needed, this was the perfect release for all of the tension pooled in his body and frustration weighing heavy on his mind. All of those things melted away as the wolf picked up the pace, grabbing hold of his antlers for leverage. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Ohhh  _yes_ ,” Dipper crooned in a manner that would have made him faint with embarrassment under any other circumstances.

“You should have told me earlier instead of holding back,” the wolf taunted, releasing his antlers and reaching for the throbbing erection beneath his undercarriage that had gone woefully neglected for far too long, gripping it and running his gloved hand along the shaft in an equally rhythmic manner. The cervitaur arched against him in response, which only served to bury the wolf’s cock in him more deeply - he was trapped between two epicenters of pleasure and  _goddamn_  did he love it.

“I…I didn’t want you to see me like this.” The words finally spilled forth in a rush of honesty; the wolf’s response was a laugh that may or may not have been  _just a little_  unhinged but Dipper was too far gone to notice.

“Why not? I like it.” He didn’t even have to glance over his shoulder to envision the lascivious leer on the wolf’s face. "Seeing you like this makes me want to steal you away so I can have my way with you whenever I want.“

Perhaps at some point, long before fully submitting to the addiction that drove him into the woods so frequently in search of a man whose true name he didn’t know just for the chance of resting in the grass at his side - this kind of talk might have been troubling. Now…it seemed like something he could get behind, and he heard himself whisper "Maybe”.

Between the rapidly increasing pace of the wolf’s thrusts, each one hitting his prostrate  _just right_  and the hand jerking him off steadily, aided by the pre-come oozing from his member it wasn’t long before he found himself nearing the brink, pressure building within the pit of his stomach and his mind too overwhelmed to fixate on anything beyond how great he felt.

Just as he began to teeter near the edge, ready to broadcast what they were up to to the rest of the woods…the wolf paused again, buried in him to the hilt, hand still gripping his cock and thumb poised against the small patch of nerves on the underside of its head.

“Oh what the fuck,” Dipper groaned, almost miserably. “You’re stopping, why are you stopping? THIS IS NOT A GOOD TIME TO STOP.”

“You said anything, kid. Time to pay up.” The wolf sounded surprisingly cool and collected, but the faint rasp in his voice told Dipper that it was simply a well-crafted facade.

“What is it?” At this point he barely cared about what he might have gotten himself into.

When the wolf resumed speaking his tone was that of the very desperation he’d accused the cervitaur of earlier, controlled of course but still - desperate. “I want you to hear me out. I’ll take care of you whenever you need it, whenever that is. Whatever you want, whenever you want it. You wanna watch the world burn, kid, fuck it, I’ll light a match.”

The sincerity of his words cut through Dipper’s frustration; another tear slid along the curve of his cheek, this one of an entirely different nature. “What…what do I have to do?”

The wolf leaned forward, nipping at the side of his neck before responding, composure forgotten and raw need replacing it. “Love me, Pine Tree.  _Only_  me.”

Dipper tilted his head to the side, glancing over his shoulder and flashing a brilliant smile at him. “I already do.”

The wolf’s face lit up; his teeth sank into the cervitaur’s shoulder in the same spot as before as he resumed moving within him at a frenetic pace that drove both of them over that edge almost immediately. Dipper’s mind went blank, a sheet of sheer white  _everything_ , and his voice mingled with the wolf’s as they came as one.

The chains dissolved, and the cervitaur slumped against the tree, struggling to catch his breath. The wolf pulled out, bracing himself with a hand on Dipper’s flank as he shuffled over to the tree, placing his back against it and dropping into the grass with a huff. Dipper followed suit, lowering himself to sit beside him. He wanted to lay his head against the wolf’s chest but his damned antlers prevented him from doing so. Instead he managed to position himself halfway in the man’s lap, tail flickering when he resumed stroking his ears lovingly.

For the first time in days Dipper was at peace, free of the anger and irritation, calm and happy. And loved. That was important, too. Even when the calm faded and the frustration crept in unbidden…that would remain.

After a few minutes of the companionable silence of afterglow the wolf spoke once more. “It’s a shame this only happens once a year.”

“Mm.” Dipper yawned, stretching out in the grass and letting the afternoon sun warm his coat. “There’s another three weeks of it.”

“…maybe you should stay close in case it flares up again,” the wolf quipped, only half-kidding.

Dipper let his eyes slip shut. “…maybe.”

* * *

He didn’t return to the Mystery Shack until early evening, following another two rounds of absolutely fantastic sex (he was really starting to like the chains and the cuffs and the collar, although he’d rather die than admit that to  _anyone_ ) and a promise to return as soon as he could. Dipper was glad that his walk of shame minus the actual shame was uninterrupted. He looked a mess, his shirt was partially shredded, and he needed a shower pretty badly. He was prepared to tell anyone he ran into that he’d gotten into a fight, but the flimsy excuse was unneeded; when he crept up the porch and through the front door the living room was deserted.

Save for Mabel, floating on her back in one of her travel tanks with her hair fanning out around her.

The moment he entered the room she sat up, startled, water sloshing over the side as she whirled around to face the newcomer. “Dipper?”

Dipper halted in his tracks, meeting his sister’s gaze guiltily.

The mermaid took in the sight of how disheveled he was; it took mere seconds for her to put two and two together. She grinned at him, and Dipper sighed, attempting to hold his head high as he walked past her tank on his way to his room. Mabel snickered.

“Shut up.”

“Not saying a word, bro-bro.”


End file.
